


God, Girls, Honor and Football

by Mileycfan4eva



Category: Chicago Fire, Chicago PD (TV), Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 17:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mileycfan4eva/pseuds/Mileycfan4eva
Summary: Sudden loss, shocking secrets, and Matt finally pulls his head out of his ass to tell Sylvie how he feels, that's just the first chapter. Kelly and Sylvie make a startling discovery when she needs a bone marrow transplant, Sylvie's nephew, and niece, and friends achieve YouTube fame with a song of outreach for kids of military parents.
Relationships: Kelly Severide & Leslie Shay, Matthew Casey/Kelly Severide, Stella Kidd/Kelly Severide, Sylvie Brett & Gianna Mackey, Sylvie Brett & Kelly Severide, Sylvie Brett & Stella Kidd, Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Kudos: 8





	God, Girls, Honor and Football

Fandom: One Chicago and SVU

Title: God, Girls, Honor, and Football

Chapter 1: How Strong Do You Think I Am?

P O V: Sylvie Brett

A/N Credit to the idea for this fic goes to twitter user itwasbetty as usual I don't own the legal rights to One Chicago or SVU despite my numerous attempts to beg for partnership with Wolf Entertainment. Thank you to all the men and women who serve and protect us here in these streets of every hometown, and overseas fighting for the freedom of this country.

May 30th, 2021

Residence Of Sylvie Brett, Leslie Shay

Kelly Severide, Stella Kidd, Hailey Upton

222 W. Erie Street

Chicago IL, 60654

"Guys! Let's go! School starts in an hour, and all if us have to be at work in a half-hour. So move it!"

My throat is raw from screaming at my almost eight-year-old nephew Remington Montgomery Brett and his twin sister Presley Raine Brett; my fourteen-year-old Son Sawyer Jude Alexander.

Leaning against the wall, I try to catch my breath; why am I so out of breath lately? I can't even climb the steps without feeling dizzy and breathless. Pain squeezes my chest hard, forcing me to lean against the wall in front of the bathroom as Leslie Shay comes out wrapped in only a towel, her hair double wrapped inside a towel. She takes over the screaming for me, eyeing me as she places her hands against my shoulders. I can see the worry in her eyes.

"She means now ya'll don't make my ass climb those steps to get to your rooms before I even get my morning coffee, or I swear you'll all be grounded. Do you hear me, guys? Elijah, that means you as well! Do you hear me?"

Shay's son calls back down within seconds. "Mama, I ain't got no clean socks, and it's too damn early to get up!" Shay's eyes practically flash in anger which makes me laugh, something I instantly regret as a coughing fit tears through my chest, leaving me gasping for air. "of course, you don't have any clean socks because I told you yesterday to get off the damn computer and do your laundry! Did you do it? No! So now guess what, you get to go to school with dirty socks. Deal with it!"

Heading into the kitchen, I'm grateful to be greeted by the beautiful smell of brewing coffee courtesy of Hailey Upton, who is already dressed in a two-piece suit making her fourteen-year-old twins Basil and

Sapphire lunch. Glancing at the calendar on the wall, I sigh, seeing that there are only twenty-two more days till my brother Blaze Remington Brett comes home on leave. He's been over in Afghanistan for two-years on his latest deployment. Finally, he'll get to see his kids, who I've had custody of since they were born.

Blaze was fifteen when he got his girlfriend Alexandria Jane Alexander pregnant; Alex is my ex-boyfriend Phoenix Alexander's younger sister, my son's father. I didn't want my son growing up, never getting to know his biological family, how I grew up always wondering. So I adopted the twins, even though I was only twenty-four and struggling to raise a child independently. Blaze joined the Army when he was seven-teen never graduated high school. He wanted to make enough money to help support his kids, so he could be the father they deserve. He's been gone most of their lives. Still, he's hoping to get a position closer to home soon so he can be there for the kids every day to support them, take them to school, help them with their homework, and be a father who is there to see them grow and not always be so far away they can only communicate through a computer screen.

Dad proudly gave his consent when Blaze asked to drop out of school and join the Army; Mama wasn't happy about her baby going overseas, the way daddy always was when we were little, leaving her to be a single mother for most of my life. In the end, though, she accepted Blaze had decided and was trying to provide finical help to me and support his kids.

Blaze joined Dad's unit, the 501st Airborne Infantry Regiment, which has changed names multiple times over the years, but their mission remains the same to serve and to protect the united states of America; To keep us safe from terrorists and anyone who tries to take our freedom, safety and land away. Dad has served proudly since he was eighteen and is still enlisted for active duty.

It's been over two years since I've seen my brother, who is only twenty-two-years-old. I miss Blaze so much, and I know his kids do too last night; Remy even asked me to describe his daddy's voice because it's been so long since he's heard it; he's afraid he'll forget the sound of his voice. Which broke my heart because I know that feeling all too well so many times growing up I would find myself afraid because I couldn't remember the color of my dad's eyes or how he sounded when he laughed what his favorite team was because we hadn't watched football together in so long.

"Hey, Sylvie?" I jump at Shay and Stella's touches on my shoulders. "Sorry, girl, I didn't mean to scare you." turning to smile, I shake away the memories of my brother nodding. I head over to grab a cup of coffee, thanking Hailey, who is on her cell phone. "No problem, sorry I jumped so easily; I got so little sleep last night."

"I bet you are tired. You and Greg had quite the night last night. Should have heard the tale we had to spin to the kids' last night." Shay winks at me as Hailey almost spits out her coffee, arching an eyebrow towards Shay. "Yeah, it wasn't interesting, Aunt Shay; you get kids understand sex younger and younger nowadays. There's this thing called google where we can literary see porn at with every click-bait."

"Basil!" Hailey slaps the back of her son's head. "Ow, Mama!" Basil grabs his head, glaring at Hailey, who snatches his iPad away. "Guess Mama has to do some parental blocking on all the electronic devices in this house." "Seriously, mother, I'm fourteen. Do you think I haven't already had sex?"

"Excuse me?"

Hailey yells in shock as Basil quickly gets up, grabbing his book-bag rushing out of the room. "gotta go, later, losers."

"Oh, no, you don't, mister, get your ass back here!" Hailey grabs her gun, and badge taking off after her son calling back to her daughter. "you better not even be thinking of having sex, young lady, or I swear to God. Get back here, boy!"

Sapphire giggles but rolls her eyes, never looking up from the book she's reading. Deep color rises in my cheeks at the implications of Shay's words. "Where is Mr. Good-looking, Lieutenant?" "not here, pervert. He went to 40 early since he's back over there this shift."

"Oh, I bet he checked every one of your engine lights off last night." Stella laughs, slapping my back, arching her eyebrow as she bumps her hip with mine. "shut-up!" we're all laughing even as I hit her arm to let her know the invasion into my private life pisses me off. "So Brett tell us inquiring minds want to know." Stella wraps her arm over Shay's shoulders, laughing as they bend their heads, so their checks are touching. "Twice now in a week, he must be pretty incredible. So is this sex with Greg, revenge sex, therapy sex, or actual feelings sex? I mean no shame or judgment. Any kind of sex is amazing in my book of shame."

"Neither one of you bitches have any shame who are you trying to fool?"

"True, so true." We both laugh, which feels amazing till I think of Matthew Casey and the look of pure agony on his face when he saw Greg and I talking, laughing these last few shifts. "Be-careful Sylvie if your heart ain't into Greg, you'll only hurt him and yourself when this thing falls south. He seems to care for you genuinely." Shay's warning is light, there's no laughter in her voice.

"Damn, this is good ass coffee." Stella smacks her lips, looking for the package. "It's imported. Blaze sent it to me last month when his unit was in Portugal on a mission."

"Thank you, Jesus!" Shay raises her hands towards heaven; the three of us laugh as I glance at the clock again, which blares a bright green 6:45. "Where are these kids, sweet Jesus? We're going to be late."

My head is pounding something fierce as I get up and head up the steps, which leaves me once again gasping, my chest squeezing; by the time I get to the girl's room, I am dizzy. Pounding on the door, I don't even have the breath left to yell their names. I don't have the heart to tell Shay or Stella that my not sleeping had little to do with the sex, which was average. I lie awake each night worrying about my dad and brother as each deployment grows closer to an end. I fear more and more for their safety. Each night I am plagued by flashbacks of my own traumas faced as a paramedic having guns pointed at me, being in an active shooter scene. I lie awake shaking, trying to fight off the tears to no success. They always end up pouring down my face till I can't take it and either go for a run to clear my head or sit on the balcony and pray.

Opening the door slowly after I get no answer, I see that the room is empty, so I move to the next room where the boys are housed. Knocking, I already hear signs of life, so I push it open and stand in the doorway, wondering how long it'll take them to see I am here and not happy. Sawyer and Elijah are still in bed, not even making any attempt to rise or shine. Remington Presley are on a video call with their friends from New York. Honor Salute Rollins/ Noah Porter Benson, nine-year-old, and Honor's older siblings Bayou Carter Knox Rollins, seventeen, and his sister Savannah Leigh Knox, fourteen.

"Hey, Miss. Brett!" Noah, Honor, and the Rollins twins all call out from the screen, shocking the kids in the room, who all turn around and gasp in shock at seeing me there. Arching an eyebrow, I nod, not having the breath left for words. "Miss. Brett, how are you? We're planning our next video! This one will be epic!"

Noah flashes an enormous smile and a thumbs up towards me; the kids have all been doing YouTube videos together for three-years now, anything from dance challenges to musical numbers or inspirational videos or fan challenge videos.

Their channel is a viral hit, and they've been asked to appear at YouTube conventions worldwide. I need no words to accompany my look towards the kids who all gulp and jump up. "Yo, Sorry guys; we gotta go. We're hybrid today and tomorrow. We will log on Wednesday and plan to do something this weekend. Man, ya'll so lucky New York ain't in session yet."

" We're actually down in Georgia for the weekend, peace ya'll, try not to get into trouble today or tomorrow.. Yeah, Remy, that means you." Bayou laughs deeply as he presses the log-off button.

"Man, you playin' I am a sweet boy. I never get into trouble at school." I laugh at that remark, remembering the last two detentions he got for talking too much in class. "Get ready now. I will not be telling you again." I shake my head and head back down the steps, which thankfully is easier than going up. I barely get off the last step when the doorbell rings.

"Yo, Brett, can you get the door? My hands are covered in Mayo? I'm making the kids' lunches." Shay calls out, frustration clear in her voice. "Yeah, she is, and I'm watching her do all the work," Stella calls back, laughing. Rolling my eyes, I yell back towards Shay. "It better not be one of your crazy jealous, angry ex-lovers, or I swear I am dragging your ass to a therapist."

"Bitch, please, I ain't got no angry ex-lovers. I satisfy all my lovers they may be crazy as hell, but they are never left displeased."

"You've got issues, Shay."

"So I've been told many times." I finally get to the door that I swing open, too tired even to care to see who it is standing behind it. When I see who is behind the closed door, I am left speechless and shocked in surprise. Matt is standing there with his hands in his jean pockets, his face ashen grayish, sweat dripping off his forehead. His hair looks like it hasn't been combed in days. His jeans are tight, making my cheeks blush as my eyes scan over his entire body, which is slumped. Even looking like he hasn't slept or showered in days, somehow Matthew Casey still looks sexy as hell. How does he do it? His shirt is ripped, and his breath reeks of whiskey and bourbon.

"Hey, Matt, what are you doing here? Are you okay?" studying him, I can tell by how his feet can't stay still. He's nervous, his pulse is racing; his eyes are avoiding me. I can hear my cell phone ringing in the distance but ignore it because Matt's posture has me worried; why is he in this state, especially right before our shift is supposed to start? Matt's always been very professional. Guilt eats at me. Were my words too much for him, too harsh? I thought they were to the point: fight for me or go to Dawson, make a choice quit playing with my heart.

Show me I mean something, damn it. All I want is love that lasts. Is all I want too much to ask? Is there something wrong with me because all I want is a good guy are my expectations far too high, too, except for a man to treat me like I am his world while still giving me the room to be myself and not need him to save me like I am some damsel in distress?

I miss the days when I was young and naïve; I thought the perfect guy would come and find me. Now happily ever after, it doesn't come so easily; it's hard to make this love connection work. Why should I fight for Matt when he isn't even willing to meet me halfway? Matt's a great guy, one of the damn best guys out there. He calls his Mama; every Sunday attends Church when he can; he's respectful and funny. A hard worker who cares about people, he's solid and steady. When Matt loves, he loves with his entire heart. I saw how he loved Gabby like she was his damn queen; he didn't need to buy diamonds to impress; he is thoughtful, remembering details most people wouldn't think were important. He's creative in showing how he feels. Matt is the type of gentlemen authors think about when they write about prince charming. When I look at Matt, I don't see a man pretending to be good, and I see a man who is genuinely good all the time. I see stars when I look at him. He makes me feel elevated to the damn moon. At least he uses to till it became a fight being fought by only one side.

"Ask me again, Sylvie."

I step back to let him inside since late May mornings are still chilly here in Chicago. Matt's words shock me. I shake my head to make sure I heard them again. Ask me again, what does that even mean? Why is he standing on my doorstep drunk, knowing the kids are here and could come down and see him in this state? These kids look up to him as an uncle. A father figure a flash of annoyance coils deep inside me. I don't have time to deal with this drama. We aren't in high school; why can't he be a damn man and tell me he wants me and only me, no, regardless of Gabby?

"What are you talking about, Matt?"

"I went to Puerto Rico. I saw Gabby."

Holy shit, the revelation hits me. He looks like the morning after regret commercial; the bastard had sex with Gabby and came here to tell me it's over; he finally understands he isn't meant to be with her because he was with her. Is he fucking serious right now? I feel sick to my stomach, my heart squeezes so hard I double over, gasping, nearly heaving. "Sylvie?" Matt's hands touch my back, burning my skin. I jump back, slamming into the wall. "Get away from me." I hiss, feeling the edges of light dance away from my eyes as a tiny million black and Grey spots swim before my vision.

How strong does Matt think I am? How much does he think my heart can take? "Sylvie?" The voices of my worried friends fade in and out of my conscious state of mind. I feel cooler hands gripping me, walking me slowly to the kitchen. My vision continues to fade in and out, allowing me to see fragmented pieces of my reality. "Get her some water." "Sylvie, bend your legs back and lean into me; honey, I will help you sit down. It's Stella."

"Head between your legs, sweetie, take deep breaths." Stella's hands massage my tightened muscles in my neck and my upper back. Her voice remains soft and calming. "Shay, maybe we should call 911. Her lips are blue, she's pale, and her hands are tingling."

"No, please, no ambulance. Give me a few minutes."

"Brett, see if you can drink some water, honey." Shay is on her knees pushing a straw through my suddenly stiff lips. "slowly but steady, honey." the water passes through the straw to slide down my throat, cooling the fire which is shooting through my entire body, leaving no part spared. Minutes of intense squeezing pain pass before I see clearly without dancing spots, my mouth itches–and my lips are super tingly—a similar feeling to when my foot has fallen asleep and is getting the pins-and-needles of 'waking up.

"Brother, what are you doing here?" Kelly Severide has strolled into the room back from his morning run. "Shit, Sylvie, you look like one of those country songs where someone's dog got run over by a truck."

"You're a real Casanova with the ladies, aren't you, Kelly?" my words come out breathy I still feel dizzy, so I lay my head on the table as I feel Shay turn to stay in front of me. Her fingers are gripping my wrist. I know she's taking my vitals. "I don't think we need 911, Stella. But Sylvie you should see a doctor today. Mackey, and I can manage without you till you're cleared."

"I'll be okay, Shay. I don't need a doctor. I just need the confusion and games to stop and maybe to lie down for a little while."

"She means you, Matt; what are you doing here?" Stella's growl would have made me laugh if laughing wasn't so painful right now. "I'm here to tell Brett I was wrong. I should have told you from the start it's always been you, Sylvie. I've been tearing my hair out for these last few months on how to express to you how I felt. I thought that some magical neon sign would appear and flash me the damn answer. I have been so stupid, Sylvie."

Matt is pulling up a chair next to me. I feel my heart speed up again, leaving me dizzy but not in the, oh shit, I'm going to pass out way I felt a few minutes ago, more in the can this truly be happening. Can the man of my dreams be manning up and fighting for me dizzy? "Our relationship has been one long slow burn for two-years-now Sylvie. Mostly because I couldn't get my head out of my ass. I didn't even understand how or what I felt for the longest time; we started organically. You were going through so much loss last year, Sylvie, while raising these amazing kids. We leaned on each other for strength and support, and it was nice, you know. I never had that with a female before, not as simply friends. I understood a little clearer when I saw Kyle ask you to marry him, and it hit me: I am jealous. I didn't know how to respond to that, though, cause I didn't get why I was jealous. We had never even considered crossing the line; I never knew you liked me like that."

"Seeing you in Greg's arms these past few weeks has driven me fucking crazy, Sylvie. You holding hands with him, laughing like he was some kind of prince charming. You looked so happy, and I could feel my blood boiling; I wanted to be that man who made you laugh so hard your cheeks turned to two beautiful roses, I wanted to be the one who could caress your skin and kiss your delicate hands, rub your sore feet. You can never fully understand, Sylvie that even one look of our eyes connecting from across the room can drive me crazy. It's a blessing Sylvie, because I feel so loved when I look at you, accepted like only you can do to a person, but it's a cruse too because I felt so broken, unable to say the words."

"You left me stranded in my thoughts; when you told me on Friday to fight for you or go to Dawson, it finally made me understand. I've been afraid of letting you down or being another bridge burned, the way Gabby was for both of us. I want you to know the reason behind this rhyme; it's not that

I didn't have the time or don't have the love, Sylvie. I don't have the strength not to fall apart; it's not that I don't care; I don't have the heart to see another friendship become nothing more than a memory."

Matt takes my hands into his; the warmth of his touch fills my aching, cold body with an incredible vivacity. "Love is not black and white. I struggle with what is real, but the logical side doesn't stop what I feel." I'm holding my breath without even knowing I am doing so till I feel those black spots appear again; I quickly exhale. Is this the sign I have been waiting for, the moment I have been dreaming about, is this a damn dream? Please don't let this be a damn dream because I cannot break his heart into pieces like mine has been.

"I'm done letting my brain be the one to tell me what I should do or how I should feel. I'm letting my heart think. I went to Puerto Rico to get closure. I never knew I needed it, but I guess I did; you weren't there for the entire love story between Gabby and I. Sylvie; it is complicated rather you think so or not. I was in love with Gabby for nearly a decade, first as a friend and then as my girlfriend, my wife, and the mother of our baby. Even if he or she never got to breathe a breath of life, we breathed it for this baby. We loved our unborn child, and losing this baby devastated us. I don't think either of us knew how deeply it affected us. We were never the same after that loss, and losing Louie was another fire to our forest. We went into things so blindly we never gave each other the chance to see clearly."

"I never allowed myself to hate Gabby; not once I choose to sleep around to dull the pain, I drank and threw myself into work. I never grieved the loss of my marriage, or my best friend, or my children. That was a mistake, Sylvie, and I see it now. I went to Puerto Rico only to discover Gabby has grieved, she has moved on, she is engaged Sylvie, and has one child by this man, and she's excepting another one. Gabby is thriving, and she's jocular. We had an endless talk this weekend Brett, I told her everything, and I mean everything."

Matt's hands run little circles across my palms and the top of my hands. "How mad was she, Matt?" God as if this is what I need for my stress level, a call from my angry best friend, who I haven't spoken to in months because I have been so riddled with guilt. "She wasn't mad, Brett, not in the way you're holding your breath thinking, Breathe Sylvie, she's happy we found each other; she thinks we would be cute together. She was mad at me for being a dumb-ass. I believe her quote was, are the muscles in your neck strangling your brain cells and keeping the oxygen from your brain from thinking? Tell the woman how you feel, Matthew Davis Casey."

I can't swallow or think straight all I can do is stare into Matt's eyes the way a tiger stares at prey, except my eyes are filled with child-like curiosity; my mind is ignoring everything, including my ringing cell phone for the third time since he arrived. "So ask me again, Sylvie, if Gabby came back to Chicago and asked me to go with her, would I?"

I can't form the words or even open my lips to talk. Thank God our friends are such noisy ass bitches because they're all standing here open-mouthed, wide-eyed staring. Shay moves to lift the water to my lips to take a sip; the wetness coats my throat and allows me to squeak out. "If Gabby came back to Chicago and asked you to go with her, would you, Matt?"

Matt remains silent, moving closer to me, so I now press his midsection in between my trembling legs. Ever so slowly, Matt shyly shakes his head, a soft smile spreading across his lips. How beautiful his ocean-deep eyes look, reflecting into my eyes. "no." he whispers the word lifting his finger, so it brushes across my jawline, sending goosebumps across my feverish skin. My pulse races in anticipation, hope clutches tightly in fear. Is this a cruel joke?

"No, because I am in love with you and have been for a very long time, I should have told you sooner. I've been a dumb-ass fool for too long. I was afraid of losing myself, afraid of letting myself love again, and risk getting hurt. When Gabby left, I lost myself; I didn't like myself very much, I lost my values what makes me happy; you helped me find the Matthew Casey at my core. Gabby didn't break me, but you freed me from the pain; I guess Selena Gomez said it perfectly to love you. I had to lose myself, to find myself and be the man you deserve. Thank you for pushing me, Sylvie, for never giving up on me. I love you, Sylvie Amity Brett."

Matt rises, pulling me up with him. My legs shake, but he snakes his arms across my waist. His lips descend across the brim of my upper lip while it leaves my lower one trembling, wanting to feel the glisten of his coat sliding across it. The warmth of his wet center brushes the perimeter of my mouth, pressing deeper small whimpers escape; my knees give out completely. Matt's hands seize my butt cheeks, pulling me up with a little help from my body, which operates automatically. My mind is blank, swimming in only stars and fireworks; thankfully, my hands know what to do, sliding up Matt's hips under his shirt, over his abs, and the pecks of his breasts.

He shivers, laughing in my mouth. I can taste the strong whiskey awakening me; my left-hand cradles his neck as I tilt my head to the left, opening my mouth wider, my eyes closing so I can savor this moment. We've molded together two silhouettes lost in the glow of the rising sun as it streams in from the west window through half-opened blinds. I've never explored every sense with a man when I've kissed before, not the way I am now with Matt. His fingers brushing over my blazing body like a treasure under the sea, like they are celebrating my very existence in gleeful animation. I taste every sense. From the bourbon and whiskey to his shampoo, he uses spice and cinnamon to the essence of his core; I swear I can taste the damn testosterone in his kiss, which would normally make me want to run far away, but now I pull him closer. There are many kinds of kisses: slow, quick, deep, wet, hard, soft, and breathy. Our kiss is a perfect mixture of all of them staring out slow and deep hard against my chapped lips, but my lips soften the more we kiss; I moan as the kiss deepens, becoming breathy, longer.

The kiss is perfection leaving me speechless, my head swimming as Matt stumbles to the counter, placing my butt on the counter as our friends all cheer and clap even as our lips part I can't bring myself to speak; I am frozen in a moment of Disney comes to life fantasy.

How can this be? How did we lose ourselves so quickly? Is this real? Will the rainfall when I open my eyes? Will toy soldiers fall on top of me and awake me so I see this love I have dreamed about being reciprocated so long? Is this just that a damn dream?

Matt's fingers gently stroke my cheeks, his eyes locked on mine. I can't breathe yet, I am breathing so damn hard I do not know how I am not struggling to catch one breath before the next escapes. "This is real, Sylvie, not a dream. I am really here; we are together losing ourselves in this perfection. The same love beats through both our hearts so that you can breathe easy; I am not going anywhere. I love you, Sylvie; I am here for the long haul.

Matt's touch sends lighting bolts coursing through my body, making me shiver as I see clearer, feeling my face flame as I understand that our friends and a snickering fourteen-year-old girl just witnessed a very private moment. Wait, is she recording this? I'm distracted by Shay coming over with our house phone glued to her ear. She's talking quickly. "Yes, hold on, Ma'am. I am so very sorry, Sylvie's right here; hang on, Ma'am."

Shay hands me the phone putting it on speaker since my right hand is tangled under Matt's shirt and my left still holding his neck, which is bent down his lips kissing my collarbone, leaving me chirping in tiny breaths as his warm wetness meets my now chilled skin. "hello." I call out, not understanding who is even on the line this damn early in the morning.

"Baby-Girl." My Mama's voice shakes, laced in tears, instantly stopping any further lip action and freezing my body in cold paralyzing fear. "Sylvie, I need you to come home. Oh God, this can not be happening."

"Mama, what's wrong?"

My mother's sobbing becomes inconsolable, and incoherent everyone of my friends comes closer as I feel their hands connect with various parts of my body. My Mom is having a panic attack, and I am miles away, unable to help her; why is she having a panic attack? What's wrong? "Mom, can you calm down? Please talk to me about what's going on? Whatever it is, we can work it out, talk it through. Is the farm in trouble? Are you sick again? Did something happen to the livestock?" She doesn't answer me, but there's a rustle of static as if the phone is being passed to someone. "Mama, please, you're scaring me. What's going on? Why do you need me to come home?"

Matt embraces me tightly from one side, and I feel Kelly come up on my other side, his firm hand lying on my shoulder. Stella takes the phone from me, holding it so Shay can grasp my hand, which she holds to her lips and bows her head, praying.

"Sylvie, sweetie?"

"Aunt Ann?"

"Yes, honey."

"Aunt Ann, what's going on? Why is Mama so upset? Is she hurt or sick?"

"No, honey, she's not hurt or sick; she's upset because last night two notification officers came by the house." My skin freezes, the hairs stand straight up as I feel the wail forming deep inside the coiling pits of my stomach. It is the moment that every military family dreads when a service member's loved one goes from having a son or daughter or a parent/ spouse fighting in the war to having a family member who died in the war. I know it's coming the minute she says the words notification officers; she is one of those officers she's made thousands of these calls in her career. I don't know who isn't coming home anymore, my brother or my dad. It is news that American families experience today on an almost daily basis. 7,036 families of soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan have died since the start of this war against terrorism.

"Who died, aunt Ann?"

I bury my face in Matt's chest, sobbing, feeling his arms wrap around me tightly. "Sylvie, I am so sorry, honey."

I always knew I grew up in the Army. As a kid, we visited Arlington National Cemetery, so I knew that part of being a soldier meant realizing my dad might not come back alive when he left on a mission. I knew it was the same for my brother; hell, it's the same for me and everyone at 51 when we go out on a call. Still you never allow yourself to go there mentally fully.

You'll lose yourself forever if you do; you'll go mad with worry and dread. There's no way to live a normal life if you can't internalize that rash fear and function as if this was a perfectly normal way to live.

It's not yet; it is our normal.

"Sylvie, are you with me?"

I can't speak. I can't think. All I can do is throw myself into Matt's embrace and choke on the screams I can't release. "We're here Ma'am, Sylvie's a little emotional right now, but we're all here." Stella moves closer, kissing the top of my head. My Aunt's voice remains neutral automatic as if this is just another notification for her instead of her relative.

"Sylvie, I regret to inform you that your brother, Specialist 2 Blaze Remington Brett, and your father Sargent Remington Wyatt Brett both died on the early morning hours of May 29th along with the rest of their unit in an air crash in Kabul, Afghanistan."

"Daddy! No!"

Presley's scream knocks me out of my trance and grief as I realize for the first time all the kids have joined us in the kitchen. "Not my daddy, no!"

I can't even wrap my mind around the news I received. There is no time; instantly, I jump down and rush to the twins, who fall into my arms weeping. I am so numb I can't even process how I am supposed to feel. "Daddy was supposed to be home in twenty-two days!' Presley screams into my chest, pounding against my shoulders. I feel the hot salty tears escape my burning eyes, feel my nose running, but I can't focus on myself. I have to be there for the kids, pulling them closer. I try to contain my emotions as I face them. Remington clutches my arm, but he isn't screaming. His tears are silent, his body shaking softly held by his cousin Sawyer who has come up behind him, his hair still a mess from being woken up. Sawyer's big blue eyes are misty in tears that haven't yet fallen. He mouths the words. "I'm sorry, Mama."

God, I am already so sick of hearing. I'm sorry. How many I'm sorry will it take for our soldiers to stop being killed, for peace to be achieved? How many more mothers have to bury sons and daughters? How many more kids, young and old, have to lose their parents?

Grabbing their hands, I hold them to my lips and bow my head in prayer. They follow suit blindly because they drill this into every country kids head from when we can lift their hands in prayer or our eyes to Jesus. In times of sorrow and grief, we turn our troubles over to the Lord. He will comfort us and guide us. I need his presence to help me guide these kids through the unthinkable.

"All-Powerful God,

We honor today those men and women.

Our sons and daughters.

Husbands and wives.

Fathers, brothers, sisters, mothers.

Who has laid down their life for their country?

Whether weary or emboldened, quiet or defiant.

Vulnerable or ready when You called them home.

Their sacrifice is too humbling for words.

Except these uttered in prayer.

Loving Lord, bless them forever in Your eternal peace.

Cherish their spirit, honor their commitment.

Send them our love, and will never forget the service that they gave."

"Jesus, please, when you welcome your sons Blaze Remington Brett and Sargent Remington Wyatt Brett into your arms, can you make sure they know how much they are loved and missed down here on earth."


End file.
